Nothing to Lose

by Jem Kallop

INCOMPLETE/DISCONTINUED: Marik Ishtar is forced out of Egypt due to his rather difficult past, and without much of an aim in life he takes a place at an English university. Expecting to live alone, what happens when he finds himself stuck with a rather difficult flatmate who goes by the name of Bakura? Multi chaptered fic, thiefshipping with deathshipping in later chapters.

9. Chapter 9

Here is your Tuesday update, sorry it's so late, I've had about a million distractions this week. But you have an extra-long chapter to make up for it (seriously, it is mammoth length. I considered making it two chapters, but had no idea where to split it. Hope it doesn't bother anyone!) ^_^ As you may have noticed from the cover picture, the incredibly wonderful and talented FanGirl16 has drawn an illustration for this story, which is here: art/Nothing-To-Lose-378614262. I think it's a brilliant drawing, and she is also a brilliant writer, so you should all go and read her fanfictions. She writes thiefshipping and citronshipping and deathshipping. ^_^

To Saki: Thank you so much! I am thrilled you're still reading. I hope you like this chapter!

Warning: This chapter gets VERY graphic at the end. Seriously, this is why this fic is rated M. Proceed with caution.

Thanks so much for all the reviews, I am stunned by how many people are reading this. I hope this chapter is a good one for you! XD - Jem

The next morning, Marik refused to leave his room. He paced the floor uneasily, too restless to remain in bed despite his tiredness, bags lying heavily under his eyes and his hair a tangled, unkempt mess. There had been plenty of sounds of movement through the rest of the flat, indicating that Bakura was up, but that just served to make Marik more determined to never leave his room. He was of no doubt that Bakura would hate him now, and Marik really did not want to have to face him. When he thought about the previous evening his blood burned through his veins, his head filling with a welter of confused thoughts and emotions. Kissing Bakura had been the worst mistake of his life.

Marik groaned in frustration, kicking at the door to his wardrobe. He just couldn't understand why he had done it. It was true that he had been exhausted, but Marik thought that shouldn't have been a reason to do something so drastic, and now he had ruined any chance of them possibly getting on. That angered Marik more than anything; Bakura already had the power to make his life a living hell, and Marik didn't dare to imagine what Bakura was capable of when he was truly pissed off. Which Marik was sure he would be now. In fact, Marik was surprised that he'd been left alone for this long.

Marik sat on the edge of his bed with a growl, dropping his head into his hands and curling his feet under his body. His head was still throbbing and his throat felt parched, but he wasn't about to risk going into the kitchen. Even the thought of Bakura's harsh, pale features was enough to set Marik's heart racing, trembles wracking down his spine. He cursed under his breath. Bakura was difficult enough at the best of times, never mind when Marik did something as stupid as kiss him.

There was a crash from further down the hallway and Marik winced. He fell back onto the bed and allowed his eyes to close, releasing a small groan; he could just stay in his room, there was no real need for him to leave. Bakura would cool off eventually ... right? If not, Marik could just stay in here forever...

"Ishtar!"

Marik shot upright with wide, fearful eyes, his legs jarring as his feet hit the floor hard. Footsteps sounded loudly down the hall and Marik jumped up, rushing to his door and checking that the lock was firmly down, his heart in his mouth. There was a loud knock on the wood and Marik skittered away, eyeing the door with great trepidation.

"Ishtar, get out here now. We need food."

Marik backpedalled as fast as he could, his back hitting the wall by the window. Bakura's tone was dark, throbbing with anger. Marik swallowed.

There was another round of knocking, more violent this time; the door shook on its hinges. Marik didn't move.

"Ishtar, if you aren't out here in thirty seconds, I am breaking your door down."

He wouldn't dare, was Marik's immediate thought, but then he remembered that this was Bakura he was dealing with. The insufferable student probably didn't give a damn about destroying property, particularly when he was as mad as he clearly was now. Marik deliberated with himself, then came to the hasty conclusion that whatever Bakura might do, there was nothing that would make Marik abandon his corner and go to the hallway to face Bakura's wrath.

Then, something happened that made Marik freeze in his tracks.

There was a low chuckle from the other side of the door, and Bakura's voice sounded silkily through the wood. "Ishtar, you will remember that I am a thief. That means I am rather good at picking locks. So, I repeat, if you aren't out here in ten seconds, I am coming to get you. Got it?"

Marik was petrified. He knew that he really should let Bakura in before the pale student did something drastic, but his muscles refused to move; his back remained firmly pressed to the wall despite the panic pooling in his gut. There was a loud sigh from the other side of the door. "Fine, then. I'll just have to come in." There was a distinct click, followed by a few scrapes, and then the door swung open to reveal a very smug-looking Bakura, smirk tugging at one side of his mouth. Dark brown eyes pierced straight into Marik, who stared back defiantly, his jaw set and his lips pursed. Panic coursed through his veins.

Silence held for an impossibly long moment before Bakura eventually spoke, leaning arrogantly against the doorframe with his arms crossed. "Hello, Ishtar."

"My name is Marik," the Egyptian hissed before he realised he had spoken. He cursed under his breath, attempting to move back a step despite the fact that his back was already against the wall, his eyes flicking to the left and right and focusing anywhere other than on Bakura.

A low chuckle rang through the air. "I am well aware of your name, Ishtar. What I am not aware of is precisely why you have decided to hide in your room all day."

Marik shifted uncomfortably against the wall, his gaze settling on the floor by his feet. He opened his mouth to speak, but realised he had absolutely no idea what to say; Bakura ought to know exactly why he was staying in his room. Things were awkward enough without making him say it out loud.

Footsteps crossed the room and Marik froze, mortified when the ends of a pair of jeans entered his vision. Cold fingers gripped his chin and Marik jerked violently, wrenching his head free of Bakura's hold even though he was still trapped by the wall. Bakura was far too close to him, that smug smirk inches from Marik's face. "So, Ishtar. What are you freaking out over today?"

"I am not freaking out," Marik hissed, his glare sizzling the air between them. Bakura was being far too arrogant about this.

The pale student quirked an eyebrow, amusement shimmering in his eyes and tugging at the corners of his lips. "Oh, really? Is that why you've decided to lock yourself in your room all day?"

"Just shut the fuck up," Marik spat. "And get the hell away from me."

Bakura's smirk stretched into a dangerous grin. "Oh, no, Ishtar. After yesterday, I have every right to stand close to you if I want."

Marik instantly backed up, his brows furrowing as panic jumped through his veins again. This was precisely the conversation he had been wanting to avoid. It was just his luck to get shafted with a flatmate who could break into any room, essentially stripping Marik of all privacy. He hated it with every fibre of his being.

Bakura, unsurprisingly, did not let it go. "What, not going to talk about it? You think you can just suck my face off and then run away as if it never happened? Grow up, Ishtar."

Marik winced, his eyes sliding shut of their own accord. "You don't have to be so crass."

"On the contrary. You're such a child, you probably wouldn't even know what I was talking about if I didn't spell it out for you." There was hidden mirth bubbling in Bakura's tone, and Marik hated it. His fingers curled into fists by his sides, his muscles tensing as he stiffened against the wall. Bakura was always so insufferable.

There was a dark laugh. "Oh, get over yourself, Ishtar. Now come on – we need to buy food."

"I think you mean you need to," Marik responded irritably, snapping his eyes open and fixing Bakura with a glare. "I do all the fucking cooking. I am not shopping too."

Bakura's eyes were dancing as he looked right back. "You offered to give me your food. You can't complain about that now."

"I offered you a mouthful, not to become your slave," Marik seethed. He pushed away from the wall, moving as far away from Bakura as he possibly could without actually leaving the room. Bakura rolled his eyes, smirk ever-present as he advanced.

"Come on then, Ishtar. Let's go shopping."

"I don't see why you can't just go yourself," Marik hissed, his arms crossed petulantly.

Bakura shot him a wide grin. "If you send me shopping, you know we'll be eating frozen food for the rest of the week, right?"

Marik glared. "We're not doing that."

"Which is why you're coming with me." Bakura's grin widened. "I'll even pay for it."

Marik snorted, stalking past Bakura and out of the flat with his nose in the air. "Yeah, with someone else's money, no doubt."

"How well you know me." Bakura locked the door behind them and slipped easily to Marik's side, leading the way down the stairs. The air was freezing outside, winter truly beginning to set in over the dreary, wet city. The cold actually helped Marik to clear his head, however, and with Bakura pacing so easily by his side he actually started to relax. The awkwardness he had imagined between them had so far been entirely absent; Bakura was being an ass, of course, but in all honesty he was absolutely no different to how he always was. Marik sheepishly began to realise that he had probably overreacted about the whole thing. There was no need for him to panic as much as he had done – Bakura didn't even seem to be angry, his tone the same teasing lilt it always was. Marik took a few deep breaths and felt calm spread through his body, relaxing his previously clenched muscles. His eyes slid closed.

Fingers suddenly gripped tightly onto Marik's wrist, pulling him to a sharp halt. There was dark laughter in his ear. "I know you're probably fantasising about making out with me again, but it tends to be a good idea to watch where you're going when you're walking through a busy city."

Marik's eyes shot open, and he instantly wrenched himself free of Bakura's grip. So much for forgetting the whole thing! With a harsh glare, Marik spun on Bakura and advanced, his gaze searing. "Shut the fuck up about that."

"Why?" Bakura was grinning, enjoying this far too much. "Is it making you uncomfortable, Ishtar?"

Marik growled. "I'm warning you. Drop it."

"Or what? You'll kiss me again?" Bakura laughed, and for once it was out of pure amusement. "That would certainly frighten me off."

Marik saw red. Grasping Bakura's shoulders in a death grip, he swung the pale student around and slammed his back into the wall of the busy street, ignoring the crowds around them. He leaned right in to Bakura, ignoring the laughter in the other's expression as he growled, "I told you to shut the fuck up. I was tired yesterday, and I had no idea what I was doing. Now fucking drop it."

"Oh, of course," was Bakura's sarcastic response. "You were tired, and your tongue accidentally fell into my mouth. Happens all the time."

Marik shoved Bakura harder into the wall, his eyes flashing. "Do you never know when to stop pushing?"

"I don't need to with you," Bakura commented calmly, his expression still highly amused. "You snap over everything, which just makes it more fun."

Marik ripped away with a snarl, stalking on down the street without a backwards glance, attempting to keep his irritation under control. Bakura was needling him on purpose, he could tell that much. Marik resolved not to give his stupid roommate the satisfaction of knowing how much he was getting under Marik's skin. He shouldn't let it bother him this much, he knew – it was only a kiss, after all – but something inside Marik just wouldn't let him laugh it off. Bakura's carefree attitude grated on him more than he was willing to admit, and the pale student's arrogance didn't help the situation. The sooner Marik was out of that flat, the better.

Footsteps beside him alerted Marik to Bakura's presence once again, but he steadfastly ignored him. Bakura seemed to have got enough amusement out of him for now and was happy enough for them to walk in silence, leaving Marik to stew. The supermarket was only a few blocks away. Bakura kept his hands in his pockets as they neared the doors, his head tilted to the side, playful smirk on his lips. Marik ignored his smug expression, drawing in a deep breath, forcing his body to relax once more before speaking with an attempt at a light tone. "So. What are we eating this week?"

"You're the cook, you decide," Bakura shrugged, smirk once more decorating his features. "Unless you need me to hold your hand and lead you around the shop?"

Marik sniffed haughtily, stalking past him and entering the aisles. Bakura followed, volunteering his usual snide remarks until Marik finally snapped and yelled at him again, at which point Bakura dissolved into quiet laughter. "God, you're so touchy today, Ishtar."

"I have a fucking first name," Marik hissed right back, leading the way to the checkouts. "We're done here."

Bakura laughed, his hands in his pockets as they joined a queue. "I am perfectly aware of your name. It's just amusing to see how wound up I can make you before you finally crack."

"You're a fucking idiot," Marik sighed, running a palm over his face.

"Aw. And here I thought we were getting along." Bakura dodged Marik's swipe with another dark laugh, his eyes narrowed slits set into his pale features. "Don't push your luck, Ishtar. We've proved numerous times that I am stronger than you."

"You've never given me a fair fight," Marik responded petulantly, crossing his arms and jigging impatiently from foot to foot. "Why is this taking so long?"

Bakura shrugged, smirk still smugly in place, before a shout from behind interrupted them both.

"Marik? Marik, is that you?"

Marik turned with a frown, his features instantly dropping into a scowl when he saw two approaching blonde heads. These were the other two he had been dragged to the club with – Joey was the guy's name, but for the life of him Marik couldn't remember the woman's. He forced a smile onto his face when they approached, joining the queue.

"Oh, Marik, it is you!" The woman grinned at him. "Haven't seen you since you stormed out of the club the other night."

Marik forced the smile to stay on his lips. "Oh, yeah, sorry about that. I was tired."

Bakura stifled a chuckle by his side, and Marik shot him a dark glare, praying that he wouldn't say anything. Bakura merely lifted an eyebrow, eyes glinting.

"Who's your friend, Marik?" Joey was speaking this time.

Marik winced. "He isn't my friend. He really is not my friend."

"Oh, Marik, and here I thought we were finally starting to get along." Bakura put a hand on his chest, his expression mock-hurt.

Marik rolled his eyes. "Shut it, Bakura."

Joey looked mildly surprised, and the woman's eyebrows shot up. She glanced between them with a small knowing smile tugging at her lips. "Ah. So, this is your infamous flatmate?"

"Infamous?" Bakura looked vaguely interested. "How so?"

The woman laughed. "Oh, according to Tea, Marik never shuts up about you."

"Oh, really?" Bakura sent Marik a teasing look. "That is interesting."

"It's also annoying," Joey cut in. "Yami tells me the only way he can ever get Marik to talk is if it's about you. He's always complaining that Marik won't talk about anything else."

Marik growled, low in his throat. "That's only true when I'm angry at Bakura. Which is basically all the time."

Bakura's smirk only grew at that. "Pleased to know I can get under your skin so much, Marik."

Marik hissed, seething, but Bakura ignored him, turning back to the two newcomers. "Where is dearest Yami, anyway? Oh, how I have missed him."

Joey lifted an eyebrow at his strange tone, but answered anyway. "He and Tea had a lecture."

Marik's jaw dropped. "What? We had a lecture?"

"You have one now," the woman laughed at his disgruntled expression. "You're about two hours late. It's probably over by now."

"Fuck!" Marik abruptly dropped his basket of shopping, ignoring Bakura's slight growl when it fell on his toe. "Get that back to the flat safely, idiot. I have to go!"

"It's just a lecture," Bakura scoffed, but Marik had already gone. The pale student shook his head, grabbing the basket with a muttered curse.

The two newcomers shared a look. "What was that all about?"

Bakura looked back up at them, and suddenly shot them a wide, sharp-toothed grin. "Oh, trust me. You really do not want to know."

...

Marik strode around the streets of the city, extremely irritated. He had arrived to his lecture just as everyone else was leaving, but as soon as he had spotted Tea and Yami he had darted back into the busy streets, losing himself in the crowd. He did not want to have to deal with them again. However, he also didn't want to have to go back to the flat and face Bakura and his sickening arrogance; the snide remarks grated on Marik far more than he wanted to admit. So it was that Marik found himself wandering the streets aimlessly, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket as he shivered. It was really freezing out now – the afternoon was nearing evening, the clouds so thick that the streetlights were already turned on. Neon signs flashed out at him but Marik ignored them all, continuing his pacing with no real care as to where he was going, his mind fixed as ever on his pale flatmate.

Marik was still unsure as to exactly why Bakura wound him up so much. It was as if he knew just exactly where to prod Marik to get the most response, and Marik never failed to rise to his verbal challenges, despite the fact that he knew he would get nowhere. Bakura was impossible to tease; everything just seemed to bounce off him, and he had a gift for twisting words. He was manipulative and dangerous, and really fucking irritating. Marik hated the sight of him.

Except ... well, except when he didn't. Marik sighed loudly as his thoughts led him on, thinking back to the few times he had felt close to Bakura. After all, he had trusted him with the secrets of his past, and Marik did not do that lightly. He knew that somewhere, admittedly deep down, Marik trusted Bakura. Then, there was the previous day; Marik had not truly calmed down until Bakura arrived, and then Bakura had actually offered to play to him. For the second time. Marik frowned when he realised that – Bakura might put on a show of hating everything about him, but his actions occasionally seemed to contradict that. After all, he certainly seemed to take an interest in Marik, but Marik had never once seen him socialise with anyone else.

Staring at the pavement with a deep frown furrowing his features, Marik didn't even notice the dark shadow watching him until a hand shot out and dragged him into a dark alley.

Marik stifled a cry when he looked up and recognised the shadow's spiky hair. He rolled his eyes. "You know, it tends to be more socially acceptable to warn someone before you kidnap them, Kek."

A dark laugh hit his ears, the tone reminding Marik of Bakura. He winced. Kek didn't seem to notice, though, clapping him on the shoulder instead. "It's been far too long since I last saw you, little cousin!"

Marik scoffed, pulling away from his grip. "I saw you, like, two days ago."

"But there were three years before then!" Kek pointed out. He tilted his head to the side, grinning. "Besides, I want to hear all about how badly you're doing now you have to actually live in the real world. Come to my flat for a bit."

"You have a flat now?" Marik lifted a brow. "That was quick. How can you afford it?"

Kek shrugged with another dark laugh, leading Marik out of the other end of the alley and into an unfamiliar part of town. "I got a job."

Marik's brow rose even higher. "A job? You?"

"You don't need to sound so disbelieving," Kek grinned maniacally. "I never said it was honest."

Marik rolled his eyes, following Kek into a small building. "I should have known. Why is everyone I associate with here a criminal?"

"Probably because you are, too," Kek snorted, letting them in. Marik looked around with an expression of mild surprise – the flat was surprisingly spacious, scattered with a few odd belongings but for the most part tidy and clean. Kek led them in to a large kitchen, complete with adjoining dining room, and couldn't help but snicker at his cousin's distraction. Marik ignored him, instead looking through the other rooms with a shake of his head before re entering the kitchen.

"No way you bought this all on your own."

Kek shrugged. "Believe what you like."

Marik sat at the table, his lips pursed as he watched Kek make coffee for them both. He glanced again around the kitchen – the table was a rich mahogany, smooth and unmarked by age, the chairs leather and very comfortable. There were multiple cupboards lining the walls, although Kek obviously didn't need so much space when he was living on his own. Marik watched his cousin suspiciously , frown creasing his brow again. He chewed on the inside of his cheek. "So, Kek, what exactly is this job?"

"You don't need to know," Kek chortled, sinking into the seat opposite Marik and tossing him one of the mugs. "It keeps me fed and clothed."

Marik shook his head, taking a long burning gulp. "I don't even think I really want to know."

"You don't," Kek laughed. "Anyway, I want to hear all about you. Have you failed your course yet?"

Marik sent him a stern glare, his fingers tightening around the cup. "I'm not going to fail, idiot."

"Oh, sure," Kek laughed. He shook his head at his cousin, grin splitting his face in two as he downed the rest of his drink and stood up, dumping the empty mug in the sink. Marik watched his movements with a sullen expression, taking small sips of his own drink and wondering what twist of fate had brought Kek here. His cousin had always represented a source of freedom to Marik, as he was the only person from the world above ground that he had any contact with. To see Kek here, in a dreary English city, was as strange as seeing a wild lion in a suit heading to work in an office with a briefcase in hand. Marik felt his lips quirk into a small smile.

Kek caught his look and tilted his head questioningly. "What's got into you? Dreaming about that flatmate of yours?"

"What?!" Marik almost spat out his drink, spluttering as he forced himself to swallow. "Why the hell would you think that?"

Kek rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. "Because I know you, Marik, and the way you two were looking at each other practically screamed sexual tension. Have you fucked him yet?"

Marik choked.

Kek snorted. "Gods, you really should get on that. The sooner you get it out the way, the better. Tell me you've at least made out with him?"

Marik hissed, instantly going on the defensive. "None of your fucking business." He deliberately avoided his cousin's gaze, focusing instead on downing the rest of his coffee in the hope of hiding his flustered expression.

Kek caught it, of course, and when the mug was lowered from Marik's face a dark violet glare was piercing straight into him. "You have made out with him? Well, about time. You need to fuck him next, then everything will be sorted."

Marik hissed, refusing to meet Kek's gaze as he slammed the mug down into the table. Kek shook his head at his cousin's expression, his brows actually lowering into a frown. "Seriously, Marik, why do you let him get to you so much?"

"I don't fucking know," Marik ground out, dropping his head onto the table. His forehead hit the wood painfully and he winced, but he was grateful for not having to meet Kek's scrutinising stare anymore. His head was pounding again, his throat burning from the drink, and he was still very tired. He found it difficult to sleep in this freezing country.

"Marik, seriously." There was the sound of a chair scraping across tiles. "If he irritates you, move out. But you made out with him, so you can't hate him that much."

"Oh, trust me," Marik growled, "I really do hate him. He's a total ass."

Kek laughed. "You made out with someone you hate?"

"It was an accident!" Marik lifted his head, his expression almost hopeless.

Kek just shook his head, grin stretching his lips wide as he examined his cousin. "You have serious problems if you think you can make out with someone by accident."

Marik groaned, his head hitting the table again. He didn't want to dwell on the implications of Kek's words, because that would mean that he had wanted to kiss Bakura. Marik was terrified of that thought, mostly because a small part of him believed it to be true. His lips had felt incredibly soft and warm, his mouth so inviting...

Marik wrenched his thoughts away with a gasp, a little disgusted at himself. He stood up abruptly. "I have to go."

"What, are you running away from this, too?" Kek lifted a brow at Marik, his lips pursing. "You need to start dealing with your emotions, Marik. You're not in a tomb anymore."

Marik winced, pain searing down his back and filling his mind with an angry red mist. He pushed away half-remembered images, forcing himself to stay focused on the present, and how very pissed-off he was. "I am not running away. I've been out for ages, Bakura will be wondering where I am."

"Oh, and you care about what he thinks, do you?"

Marik seethed inwardly when he realised that those words were true. Yes, he cared what Bakura thought of him; he was embarrassed of his naivety, but Bakura had actually helped him more than Marik cared to remember, along with a whole load of teasing and cruelty, of course. But he had played for Marik twice, as well, which meant more to him than Bakura probably realised.

"Gods, cousin." Kek shook his head when Marik zoned out yet again, his expression distant and almost yearning. "You have got it bad."

Marik snapped back to the present, sending Kek a dark, angry glare, his violet eyes flashing. "Shut the fuck up! I don't feel anything for Bakura!"

Kek rolled his eyes. "Sure you don't."

"I don't!"

"Prove it, then." Kek was grinning now as he met Marik's defiant gaze. "Come out with me tonight, and pull someone. Anyone; male female, animal, machine, I don't care. Just pull someone, and then I will leave you alone about Bakura."

Marik stopped short at that, his eyes widening momentarily. He had never been with anyone before – in fact, the kiss with Bakura had been his first experience of anything remotely romantic – so to hear his cousin suggest something like that was almost ... barbaric.

Kek snorted when he saw Marik's faintly disgusted expression. "Don't look like that. I'm not asking you to fall in love – just pull someone."

Marik chewed his lip. This was definitely out of his comfort zone; just a few months ago, the only people he had come into frequent contact with were his father, his siblings and his cousin, so he was still awkward in social situations. He was distinctly uncomfortable with the idea of just pulling someone – he had no idea how to go about it.

"Of course, you don't have to, if you're too scared. Or if you really want to be with Bakura but know you could never have him..."

Damn Kek.

"Fine," Marik hissed. "Deal. But you had better shut the fuck up about Bakura."

Kek just grinned widely at him, his lips pulled back in a maniacal grin.

...

Marik eventually arrived back at the flat just as dusk began to spread its long grey fingers over the city. He shut the door tiredly behind him, depositing his keys in the kitchen before dragging his tired feet back out to the kitchen. Bakura was already in there, on the phone again, although this time he was pacing around the flat with an agitated expression on his face. Marik slipped through the door quietly, unsure as to whether the distracted student had even noticed his arrival.

"I don't fucking care about that. He can go to hell for all I care, just as long as you understand that you are nothing to do with me anymore."

Marik lifted a brow, surprised by the amount of venom in Bakura's tone. It was worse than anything he had ever turned on Marik before.

"No, I don't give a damn. Do whatever you need to, just stay the fuck out of my life, alright? I don't need to deal with you anymore. I don't care what you think, idiot. You're not pulling that one on me again. I've made myself perfectly clear; I don't want to hear from you again." Bakura practically spat the last few words out before angrily chucking the phone half way across the kitchen; it skidded across the floor, coming to a half-hearted halt beside the still-cracked cupboard.

Marik shook his head. "What's got into you?"

"Where the fuck have you been?" Bakura growled, his brown eyes searing straight through Marik.

Marik tilted his head. "I ran in to Kek, went to visit him for a bit. Who's got you so wound up?"

"None of your fucking business." Bakura drew in a deep breath, his features relaxing slightly when he looked back at Marik. "Why have I got no food yet?"

Marik snorted, heading to the cupboards. "It wouldn't kill you to make it yourself, you know."

"You hate my food," Bakura pointed out, stretching before collapsing in one of the seats at the table.

Marik sent him a questioning look. "We don't have to eat together."

Bakura shrugged, his fingers scratching into the hard plastic of the table as he avoided Marik's gaze. "We always do. Cook quickly – I've got to be at a concert in half an hour."

Marik gave him the finger as he dug out a clean saucepan, switching on the hob. Bakura chuckled. "Did no one ever teach you how rude that gesture is?"

"Oh, they did," Marik smiled sweetly, his features almost angelic as he turned them on Bakura. "That's why I only save it for special occasions."

Bakura rolled his eyes, his foot tapping impatiently whilst he waited for Marik to finish. The meal was served up soon enough, both students tucking in without talking. Bakura finished first, leaping out of his seat and heading straight for the door.

Marik coughed pointedly. "Plate. Sink. Now."

"As if," Bakura scoffed. "I told you, I'm running late."

"I don't care. You're still washing up."

"I'll do it later," Bakura responded impatiently, one foot already out of the door.

Marik pursed his lips. "What concert is so important that you need to leave in such a rush? The last one really wasn't that great."

Bakura looked vaguely affronted before a smirk crossed his features. He stepped fully back into the room, folding his arms and leaning confidently against the wall. "Oh, really? Because from where I was sitting, you seemed to rather enjoy it, Marik."

Marik lifted a brow. "As if. You wouldn't have been looking at me."

"I was," Bakura assured with a sharp-toothed grin. "You had your eyes closed and looked positively ecstatic. Never mind how much you love my playing in the flat – last night is a case in point."

Marik bristled instantly, standing from the seat in one fluid motion and sending Bakura a harsh glare. "I told you to shut the fuck up about that!"

"And I didn't listen to you," Bakura responded sagely, wide grin stretching his lips. "I have to go now. I'll be sure to continue this fascinating conversation with you later. Who knows, maybe if I play again this evening I'll get lucky and you'll jump me again." He was out of the door before Marik could respond, dark laughter echoing through the flat long after he had gone.

Marik seethed, his blood burning through his veins at the arrogance in Bakura's tone. How could the pale student be so calm about all this? So teasing, in fact? Marik found the whole situation incredibly awkward, and would have been much more comfortable if it was never mentioned ever again. He had thought that Bakura would feel the same, or if he didn't, that he would be furious at Marik for trying something like that. Not that Marik had really been trying – he had never meant to kiss Bakura. He really didn't know what made him do it.

With a long drawn out sigh, Marik sank back into his seat, picking at the remains of the meal. What had made him kiss Bakura? He had never felt the urge to do something like that before, given his extremely sheltered background. Something about Bakura just made him feel comfortable, though – well, at least, it did when Bakura wasn't being an insufferable ass, like he had been today.

Marik sighed, giving up on his food and tossing the rest of it in the bin. He shoved his plate in the sink alongside Bakura's, determined to leave them for him to wash later; Marik wasn't going to act as Bakura's slave. It was getting near time for Marik to meet Kek, so he went and changed into something a little more fitting for clubbing, settling on a tight purple top and skinny jeans. He pulled a light black jacket over the top, remembering how miserable the weather got here, before grabbing his keys and wallet and making for the door.

It was cold out on the streets, sending shivers down Marik's spine as he waited impatiently for his cousin to show up. It was fully dark by now, the streets lit by flashing signs and neon lights, sending a hazy glare settling over the whole city. Marik sighed when he looked up and couldn't see the stars.

"You showed up, then." Kek appeared beside Marik, grin on his face as he started walking. "And here I thought you'd chicken out."

Marik scoffed, ignoring the small part of him that very badly wanted to. He wouldn't back away from the challenge now, though, because he knew that Kek would never let him live it down if he did.

Kek led the way confidently through the streets, leading them to a club chock-full of students. Loud music beat out from behind the closed doors, flashing lights just visible through the throng of people crowding to get in. Trepidation sat low in Marik's gut as they joined the crowds, Kek a leering shadow by his side. "This is a mistake," Marik muttered under his breath, eyeing the people around him with something close to distaste.

A dark laugh sounded from behind him. "What, too frightened to be here, Ishtar?"

Marik froze when he recognised that tone, spinning on his heels with wide eyes; they grew even wider when he met a familiar pale face. Bakura was smirking. "I imagine this is a bit out of your comfort zone. Just don't get drunk like last time, alright?"

"I was not drunk!" Marik reflexively shouted, his brow creasing into knots. "What the hell are you even doing here? I thought you had a concert."

"I did. It's finished," Bakura shrugged, grin widening when his gaze fell on Kek. "Oh, you brought your cousin? Wonderful. Now I get to torment two idiotic Egyptians."

To Marik's surprise, Kek merely laughed. "Torment Marik all you like, but try anything with me and I'll kill you, got it?"

Bakura smirked. "As if you could kill me."

"Do you really want to risk it?" Kek sent him a wide leer, his eyes gleaming in the flashing lights.

Bakura's lips widened into a grin as he shot Marik a sidelong glance, tossing him a wink. "Na, not tonight. I'm hoping to get lucky." With another smirk aimed at Marik, Bakura disappeared back into the crowd.

Marik stared after him, his jaw almost on the floor. He groaned. "Can we just leave now?"

"No can do, kiddo," Kek laughed, ruffling his hair. "At least, not if you want to prove to me that you don't want to fuck Bakura."

Marik hissed, glancing anxiously at the crowd before fixing Kek with a glare. "Keep it down, idiot!"

Kek merely laughed as they made their slow way up to the doors.

The club was just as bad as Marik had feared. The music made it impossible to think straight, Marik's head pounding from the moment they entered. Kek led him straight to the bar, ordering them both a drink and crashing down onto two of the stools, pushing aside the crowd of sloppily drunk students. Marik sniffed at the state of the chairs, but it was better than standing. The throng pushed in around them, the heat of bodies sending trickles of sweat down Marik's already-sore back, and he seriously began to consider just getting up and leaving; any amount of teasing from Kek would be better than this.

The thought of getting out of there became even more appealing when he caught sight of a pair of heads coming his way, one cropped brunette, one spiky.

Marik groaned.

"Marik!" Tea bounded over to him with a wide grin lighting up her face, the lights playing off her pale skin and draining her of all colour. Yami remained by her side, nodding once to Marik, his eyes clouded with worry.

Marik forced a smile onto his lips, feigning happiness for the second time that day. "Hey Tea, Yami."

"Are you here on your own?" Tea looked a little worried. "You could have come with us, if we'd known where you were. You missed the lecture earlier!"

Marik tried not to let his expression dim, although his lips pursed slightly. He didn't really want to have to deal with more of their questions tonight. "Oh, I'm not here on my own. My cousin..." Marik turned to the seat next to him, only to find it empty. With a frown, Marik scanned the club, cursing under his breath. Great. Kek had just disappeared.

"Marik?"

With a low groan, Marik turned back to the pair by his side. Tea was shooting him a worried look. "Are you ok?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah..." Marik scanned the crowd once more, feeling a little disappointed when Kek was nowhere to be found. "I just can't find my cousin. He was right here with me..."

"Your cousin?" Yami spoke up, his calm voice too quiet amongst the mess of music and dancing. "I didn't know you had any family here."

"He moved after I did," Marik explained, trying and failing to keep his voice calm. He had a hunch that Tea and Yami would not leave him alone now.

He was right. A small frown soon creased Yami's brow. "So, you do have family in Egypt? You've always been so closed, I assumed you were on your own."

"I'm not." Marik ground out.

Tea, of course, jumped in here. "Ah, that's really exciting! Don't you miss them, though? I find it hard enough just being a few cities away from my parents, never mind a whole continent!"

"My parents are dead," Marik growled, hoping that this would shock them both enough to make them shut up and leave him alone. He was not going to get into this when he was tired.

Tea, unfortunately, did not take the hint. "Oh, no, I'm so sorry! That's awful! Is that why you moved to England?"

Marik merely grunted, turning back to the bar and downing the rest of his drink. The flashbacks were pulsing in the back of his skull again, sending unwanted images of violence and pain shuddering through his mind. Marik blinked them away, blearily ordering another drink and attempting to block out the horridly loud music.

Tea wedged herself into the seat beside him, meeting his gaze with worried blue eyes. "Marik, if you're having problems dealing with your emotions, maybe you should see someone ... I'm sure there are people at uni who could help you, I'll put in a word for you if you like, the counselling team are really good..."

"Just shut up about it," Marik muttered, too tired to get really cross with her. He took a long draft of his new drink, enjoying the tingles the alcohol sent to the corners of his body and the haze that slowly set over his mind.

Tea was still looking at him, pity in her vacuous eyes. Marik almost wanted to throw up. She smiled at him, the expression insincere. "I just want to help you, Marik..."

"Then shut the fuck up," he growled. "Take Yami and get the hell out of here."

Tea blinked, turning to Yami with a helpless expression. He stood beside her, sending Marik an almost sad stare as he spoke softly to Tea. "Don't worry, he obviously doesn't want to talk. Best we just leave it..."

"Yes, leaving things is what you do best, isn't it, Yami?"

Marik started at that familiar cold voice, almost jumping out of his skin when an arm wrapped itself around his shoulders. Bakura ignored him, turning his harsh glare on the spiky-haired student instead, his intense brown eyes burning.

Yami flinched. "Hello, Bakura."

Bakura growled, the noise feral and threatening in Marik's ear; he would have moved away, were it not for the arm around his shoulders. Instead, the Egyptian took another drink, watching the small scene unfold before him.

Yami backed away slightly from Bakura's dark glare, catching Tea's hand and tugging. "Come on. We should leave."

Tea looked a little sad, still sending worried looks in Marik's direction even as she allowed herself to be led away. Marik watched them go with relief pooling in his gut, swallowing the last of his drink before placing it back on the bar. Bakura growled, not moving his arm from about Marik's shoulders as he alighted onto a stool beside him. "What are you drinking?"

Marik shrugged. "Anything alcoholic."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Bakura chuckled darkly even as he beckoned the barman over. "After you got so drunk last time?"

Marik huffed, pulling himself out of Bakura's grip and sticking his nose haughtily in the air. "For the last time, I was not drunk."

"You are now, though." Bakura winked at him, passing over another drink.

Marik sniffed it suspiciously, his brow creasing. "...You didn't spike this, did you?"

"Of course not. What do you take me for?" Bakura was grinning though, taking a long draft of his own drink. Marik shrugged and lifted the glass to his lips; the alcohol burned a searing trail down his throat, but he refused to cough.

Bakura seemed to approve, his brown eyes sparkling through the haze in Marik's brain. "You look rather worse for the wear."

"I am fucking sick of people asking about my past," Marik ground out, his voice more gravelly than it had ever been before.

Bakura lifted a brow, gesturing in the direction Yami and Tea had gone. "Is that what they were bothering you about?"

Marik merely nodded, taking another drink. He liked the alcohol – it tingled through his veins, sending little bursts of warmth through his blood, flushing his cheeks and causing his eyes to glow. Turning to the pale student by his side, Marik had a hard time taking his eyes away. Bakura's skin shone eerily in the swirling lights, his eyes as sharp as ever as they looked into Marik, picking out everything that went on in his head. His black coat stood out proudly against his ghostly strands of hair, making him a striking figure in a crowd. Marik was drawn to him, and he couldn't help edging his stool a little closer.

If Bakura noticed he didn't comment, instead nodding back over to where Yami and Tea had disappeared. "You're going to have to get used to that, you know. Being asked about your past, I mean; you're a mystery to them, and they're going to want to work you out."

"Well they fucking shouldn't," Marik grumbled into his now-empty glass. "Says you, anyway – could you get any more mysterious? You tell me nothing about where you come from."

Bakura shrugged, smirk dropping from his face momentarily. "It isn't any of your business."

"It should be when I have to live with you," Marik pointed out. "Who were you on the phone to earlier? You sounded pretty mad."

Bakura turned a harsh glare on him. "None of your fucking business."

"I told you everything," Marik continued, ignoring the whine that showed through in his tone. "It's only fair you tell me about you, too."

"Life isn't fair, Ishtar." Bakura finished his drink, placing the glass back down on the counter slowly.

Marik glared at him. His tongue felt heavy, his heart beating too fast, his mind a confused welter of emotions. "My name is Marik," he managed, his mouth slow to form the words. "Don't call me Ishtar. I'm Marik."

Bakura glanced back at him, brown crashing onto violet as the two gazes met. Marik felt shudders rack down his spine. He swallowed.

Bakura leaned closer, one arm tightening around Marik's shoulders. Their foreheads were almost touching. "Why?" Bakura breathed, his voice so low that Marik had to strain to hear it, despite their incredible proximity. "Why don't you like me calling you Ishtar?"

Marik took his time with responding, allowing the thoughts to flow through his skull before he attempted to voice them. "...I don't like being an Ishtar."

Bakura quirked a brow, so Marik tried to explain further. "Being an Ishtar means living in a tomb in Egypt. I got out. I don't want to be constantly reminded of where I come from."

Bakura turned the words over, his brow furrowing, before he nodded slowly, meeting Marik's gaze again. He smirked, and Marik stopped breathing. Bakura leaned even closer, his lips brushing Marik's cheek as he whispered, "Alright then. Marik it is."

Marik shivered at the cool breath on his skin, the tingles in his veins increasing. Bakura was so close, and his body was cool against Marik's burning skin, and suddenly Marik remembered how soft his lips had been when they kissed the previous night...

Before Marik knew what he was doing, his head had turned and he had brushed Bakura's lips, once, with his.

Bakura went still momentarily, his brown eyes searing through Marik's. Marik stared right back, uncaring of whatever emotion he was showing; the alcohol was truly setting in now, filling him with fuzzy warmth and aching desire, and Bakura was right there in front of him. Bakura tilted his head to the side, smirk tugging at his lips again. "You're drunk."

"Probably," Marik shrugged, attempting to appear nonchalant through the slurring of his words.

Bakura's smirk turned into a full-on grin. "Want to forget your past completely?"

"...Depends on what you're suggesting." Marik matched his expression with a grin of his own, his golden hair stuck to his forehead as he leaned closer again.

Bakura touched their foreheads together, briefly connecting their lips again but pulling away when Marik pushed for more, his tongue eager to explore Bakura again. Bakura smirked, leaning far enough away to be out of reach. "I am almost sure you're catching my drift."

"Manipulative fucking bitch," Marik hissed, pushing himself to his feet, perfectly steady despite the cloud in his mind, made of lust now as well as alcohol.

Bakura merely laughed at him, jumping down too. They were perfectly matched in height, exactly at each other's eye level as Bakura stared him down. "How well you know me, Marik."

Marik grabbed his shoulders, pulling him in to a long, lip-searing kiss. Bakura responded with a chuckle, licking away at Marik's mouth with surprising eagerness, Marik returning the favour, if a little more sloppily. Bakura soon pulled away, eliciting a low growl from Marik.

Bakura smirked.

Marik felt his own lips tug upwards again. "I didn't realise you were this keen to kiss me again."

"I'm keen to get in your pants," Bakura corrected, his tone as teasing as ever. "There is a difference, you know."

Marik growled, his hands back on Bakura's shoulders, spinning him around so his back hit the bar. "I know," Marik ground out before pressing his mouth to Bakura's again, thrilled when Bakura moaned a little. Pale hands snaked around his waist, pulling them closer together, and Marik gasped at the friction of their lower bodies. He could feel Bakura's hardness, and felt himself grow in response. Bakura chuckled into his mouth, pulling away just enough to mutter into Marik's ear, "I think we should take this back to the flat, don't you?"

By this point, Marik couldn't think of anything better. His fingers grabbed Bakura's wrist and pulled, leading him firmly out of the bar, Bakura's chuckles music to his ears.

As soon as they were through the door and in their tiny hallway, Marik slammed Bakura against a wall and kissed him harshly, his tongue instantly pushing past his lips. Bakura let him explore whilst his hands roamed, finding the hem of Marik's shirt and tugging at the soft material. Marik gasped, faltering slightly when fingers brushed the bare skin of his stomach, and Bakura took advantage of the moment to spin Marik around, taking control of both the kiss and their movements. Marik started when Bakura's tongue wound its way into his mouth, simultaneously removing his jacket. Marik shrugged it off and pressed back eagerly, only for Bakura to pull away, holding him against the wall. Marik mewled slightly, eliciting a dark chuckle from the pale student, who began to work Marik's shirt up his torso. Marik shivered but took the hint, quickly shedding the item before catching Bakura in another kiss, fingers tugging at his black coat. Bakura let him take it off, allowed Marik to press him against the wall again, even letting out a low groan when Marik pulled his shirt off. Both bare-chested, they continued their heated session in the hallway until the hardness in their pants became almost unbearable.

Bakura ripped his head away from Marik, his hands snaking around Marik's hips to grind their pelvises together, growling. Marik's head snapped back at the sudden onslaught of pleasure, waves rushing through his body. Marik pressed back eagerly, moving with Bakura, hands running over his pale chest as they kissed again. Bakura ended it quickly, though, reaching behind him to swing open his bedroom door.

Marik didn't need telling twice.

In no time at all they were both writhing on Bakura's bed, trousers and pants flung haphazardly on the floor. They wrestled back and forth, neither willing to submit, both eager to continue until Marik finally slammed Bakura back into the mattress, not once breaking their kiss as he ground his hips down, making Bakura arch his back, hissing. "God, Marik..."

Marik grinned and repeated the movement, relishing in the groan that pushed through Bakura's reluctant lips. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were desperate."

Bakura's only response was to growl and pull him back down, grinding up into him. Marik almost lost it right there, the friction unbearable against his hard skin. Bakura noticed and smirked, murmuring, "It would seem I'm not the only desperate one here." Without another word, Bakura reached to the bedside table, retrieving a small bottle. Marik watched curiously as Bakura unscrewed the lid, dipping his fingers in the smooth liquid. Bakura caught his look and laughed. "I guess you have no idea what this is, hm?"

Marik drew his brows together, hating the smug look in Bakura's eyes. The pale student laughed again, leaning up to whisper in Marik's ear, "Just watch and I'm sure you'll get the hang of it."

"I'm not a child," Marik hissed, which only served to make Bakura laugh louder. The pale student reached under himself with a grimace, and Marik watched, fascinated, as he pushed a finger into his asshole. Bakura watched his face as he prepped himself, stretching as much as he could.

"Do you understand what I'm doing?"

Marik nodded, his lips growing into a grin as he grabbed the bottle. "Let me."

Bakura lifted a brow but complied, removing his finger and allowing Marik's to replace it. He hissed when the tan digit first entered him – Marik was a little rough – but as Marik went deeper, adding more fingers, he brushed the spot that had Bakura writhing in pleasure. Marik grinned. "Like that, huh?"

"Shut it," Bakura growled, pulling himself away from Marik and grabbing the bottle, "And get over here."

Marik obediently slid closer, shivering in a mixture of shock and pleasure when Bakura's cold coated hands slid over his erection. Marik shuddered, the movement almost unbearable through the haze of alcohol that still rested over his brain, making every action a mess of hormones and desire. Bakura grinned when Marik groaned, his skilled hand massaging all the right places before he finally let go and lay back. "Get on with it, then."

Marik met his gaze with half lidded eyes, the violet clouded by lust. He quickly lined himself up, fingers digging in to Bakura's shoulders as the pale student wrapped his legs around Marik's waist. Marik took a deep breath, nudging Bakura's opening, before finally plunging in.

Both students let out low moans, Marik lost in the sensation of sudden warmth surrounding him, Bakura adjusting to being filled so completely. Marik couldn't wait for long, moving without warning Bakura and slamming all the way into him. Bakura hissed, crunching into a half-sitting position as Marik pounded into him, finding the spot that had both of them writhing in pleasure. Marik's pace was fast, almost unbearably so, but Bakura couldn't bring himself to care. Marik was lost in sensation, his grip leaving deep marks on Bakura's shoulders, his hips thrusting wildly and erratically the further he went.

Bakura shuddered, his back arching off the bed as Marik drew him ever closer to the edge. Pale fingers grasped his own aching member, stroking in time with Marik's thrusts, send low growls ripping from deep in his throat. Marik was far from thinking straight, lost in a haze of feeling and desire and need, but the sight of Bakura pleasuring himself wasn't enough – Marik needed to be a part of it. All of it.

Bakura growled when tan fingers wrapped around his own, moving in time. Both of them were close already, warmth pooling in their guts and shooting forth, much too soon. Marik released a breathless sigh, collapsing on top of Bakura, shuddering when pale arms slowly held him closer. The feeling was incredible – to be this close to another person, and feel only pleasure, was completely alien to him.

Bakura chuckled into his ear, softly, breathlessly. "Told you you'd forget your past."

Marik moved reluctantly, sliding out and rolling on to the mattress beside Bakura, his bones aching, mind clouded. "Mm ... lucky guess..."

"Of course," Bakura chuckled. Marik shoved him lightly, his eyes sliding closed as he curled up against his side, shivering.

"It's freezing. Don't you have covers?"

"I think you kicked them off," Bakura laughed, sitting up and reaching over Marik to tug them back onto the bed. Marik grabbed them instantly and wrapped them around himself, eliciting another chuckle from Bakura. "They're mine. I don't think it's fair that you get them all."

"Shut up," Marik growled in response, his mind already far towards sleep. Bakura just shook his head, pulling them a little more over the both of them before closing his own eyes. They lay side by side, only touching where necessary, both lost in the haze of the afterglow, too comfortable to move.

It was the first night of undisturbed sleep Marik had experienced since arriving in England.

Apologies for Kek's OOCness. It is so hard to make him truly psycho in an AU set in modern society whilst keeping it believable. ^_^ Also, I don't drink alcohol, so I was totally making up those parts on the spot. They really won't be accurate. Don't drink alcohol – it is bad for you. XD Please let me know if you spot any typos – it's very late over here, so I have probably missed lots. I will fix them in the morning. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! - Jem